Tower Tales
by FearlessFreep
Summary: Oneshots surrounding the lives of the Warner siblings.
1. Special

NOTE: The following is the first in what may (or may not) be a series of oneshots. They will all take place in the same universe as 'Bonds' and elements of that story will be referenced, but unless otherwise mentioned, it is not necessary to read 'Bonds' beforehand. Enjoy.

**Special**

The children of the Los Angeles County Toon Orphanage lurched forward as the bus came to a stop. A second later they erupted from their seats and scrambled toward the exit in a tangled mess of limbs, tails, and fur. While this behavior would reduce lesser men to tears, the bus driver remained unfazed. This was standard fare for every field trip. Every child knew it was imperative to be the first off the bus, including a trio of siblings named Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. Dot was doing her part by darting between children's legs and kicking their shins as she passed while Wakko was swinging from tail to tail like a monkey. Yakko, who was too tall to sneak under anyone but too skinny to make any significant impact on any of the kids his own size, simply shrugged and allowed himself to be carried to the front of the bus like a twig in a river.

"This is a fire hazard," Yakko told the driver as he was jostled off the bus. The driver looked like he was resisting the urge to hit Yakko.

The children tumbled out of the bus and into the bright California sun. Yakko dusted off his jeans and took in his surroundings. They were at the top of a small mountain that overlooked all of Los Angeles. Beyond the parking lot and toward the edge of the overlook was a long and elegant white building. Squinting, Yakko could make out the words 'GRIFFITH OBSERVATORY' emblazoned in gold above the entrance. Dot joined him.

"Is this is it? Are we here?" she squeaked.

"I'd say so, sib."

Wakko bounded up to his side. "Where can I observe Griffith?" he asked breathlessly.

"It's his observatory, not a place to observe him specifically."

"Oh."

Being an orphanage kid was actually a pretty sweet set up, in Yakko's opinion. A roof over their heads, three square meals a day, occasional field trips, and the best education the bottom rungs of government funding could provide. Life was at least better at the orphanage than it was with their mother. In their five years together she could not have made it more plain that they were unwanted. She clarified that further when she unceremoniously dumped them off on the orphanage's front door step four years ago. No, not dumped, _placed._ He was supposed to say that they'd been _placed _at the orphanage. It was more palatable to potential parents. He could still picture the blanket shock on the face of a prospective adopter when Yakko told her that he and his siblings had been "put out to pasture" by their mother.

As he'd been frequently told: his mouth wasn't doing him any favors.

But all in all, the orphanage was a perfectly fine place to spend a lackluster childhood. In fact, the only bad thing about it was –

"CHILDREN!"

Yakko and all the other kids winced at the ear-piercing call. Ms. Flamiel, the orphanage director, had just stepped off the bus, a large black binder tucked under her arm. She was a plain and cold looking woman whose chest was sagging nearly as much as her flabby upper arms (Yakko had told her this once. He didn't know a person's face could actually turn purple). She scanned the children with her pale, beady eyes. Where Yakko could tell exactly what Dot or Wakko was thinking just by looking into their eyes, the only time Flamiel's eyes exhibited any kind of emotion was when she was fixing them on Yakko. And the emotion was not a positive one.

"Good Gertie, it's hot out here," she grumbled, then cleared her throat loudly once all the kids had gathered. "Welcome to the Griffith Observatory. You all will have one hour of free time in which you are allowed to explore the observatory – and only the observatory. You are to compose yourselves in a manner befitting our wonderful institution." She paused after she said this and fixed Yakko with a long, stern glare. Yakko batted his eyes and concentrated until an angel's halo popped up over his head. Dot snickered, but several of the older kids scowled at him.

"Freak," whispered Robbie, a human toon.

"Bed wetter," Yakko mumbled back.

Breathing heavily through her nose, Flamiel continued, "So that means no running, no jumping, no laughing, no dillydallying, no crying, no poking, no burping, no shouting, no hitting, no sniffling, no name calling, no hair pulling, no tail pulling, no touching anything, no breaking anything, no harassing anyone, no pretending you are a fish – " she looked at Wakko for that one " – no asking questions, and no sticking your hands behind your backs. And remember, have fun."

Yakko raised his hand.

"Didn't you hear me? One of the rules was no asking questions," Flamiel barked.

"No, sorry, shockingly I didn't commit them all to memory," Yakko muttered. Then he said more loudly, "And I didn't have a question. I just wanted to tell you it's called a hammerspace."

The chattering around him fell silent as all the kids turned to look at him. Wakko shrank back while Dot grinned at all the attention. But Yakko ignored the other kids and stared doggedly back at Flamiel, who looked like she was developing a facial tic.

"You should see a doc about that," he said, pointing to it.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed.

"I said you should see a doc a – "

"Not that! Before that!"

"Oh, that part where I was correcting you about your toon terminology? The hammerspace thing? Is that what you're referring to?"

While his siblings were stuffing their fists in their mouths to prevent their giggles, Flamiel looked like she would never laugh again. She marched forward so that she was now looming over him. He supposed this was meant to be threatening, but he could barely see her face as her ample chest was in the way. For a brief moment he wondered if this sight would be attractive once he'd gone through puberty. This thought was so horrifying that he shuddered, which Flamiel mistook as a sign that her intimidation tactics were working. She smiled triumphantly and said, "You three know you are not to talk about your useless little magic tricks. If you'd like to go on any future field trips, I'd better not see so much as a penny come out from behind your backs."

"I saw Yakko pull a whole globe out of his back yesterday!" shouted a ferret named Holly. Everyone knew she resident tattletale. Which of course had endeared her to Flamiel forever.

"Just brushing up on my geography," Yakko said, examining his fingernails. It helped him will his temper down. He knew why Holly, Robbie, Flamiel, and all the others were treating them this way. They were jealous. No one else could do what he did – pull things like paddleballs and globes from his hammerspace, stretch his tail out across the room, or jump off the roof of the orphanage without getting hurt. Not every toon could, or at least that's what he guessed, as none of the other kids could so much as jump off the swings without twisting an ankle. Yakko knew that there were toons out there, like the ones he saw in the cartoons on Saturday morning, that were admired, even idolized for these skills. Donald Duck, Wile E Coyote, or his favorite, Bugs Bunny – everyone loved them. But here, in the closeted and envious halls of the orphanage, he was a pariah. It wouldn't be long before his siblings would be ostracized either. They were already showing the signs. As far as he could tell, Wakko and Dot were going to be pretty good at it too. Wakko was showing an amazing inclination toward a gag bag. And Dot had nearly given him heart failure the other week when she pulled out a small box and asked Yakko if he wanted to see her "pet."

They were young yet though. Not old enough to be shunned and ashamed of their powers. Not that it mattered anyway. Natural talent and unsupervised experimentation would barely get them past the birthday party magician level. Toons had to go to tooniversities to really get any good.

"Don't worry Holly, I'll be watching him, seeing as no one else will," Flamiel said, patting her head and glaring at Yakko. "Speaking of which, I was going to have a word with that nice looking couple over there. Why don't you join me? "

Yakko watched with a scowl as Flamiel led Holly to the two random strangers. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd been told he was unadoptable. Flamiel had let him know that dozens of times. He was too loud. Too obnoxious. A smart aleck. A know it all. No respect for authority. Why would someone want him when they could have a child who behaved? Those kids were the ones who wanted parents. Because they were the ones who deserved them.

And he wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what all these little "field trips" were about. If Flamiel hadn't already made it obvious enough by lugging that stupid binder around. The binder had everyone's files in it; it was the same binder that she had with her during every potential parent visit (Yakko had asked to see his own file once, but Flamiel said it would take too long – he had his own binder). These field trips were essentially a traveling circus act for her to show off all the kids in hopes of persuading people into coming to see them in the orphanage. In theory, it wasn't against the law or anything – after all, as orphanage director, he couldn't exactly fault her for trying to get them adopted to good homes – but to Yakko it was a death knell. Because Flamiel was actively trying to adopt away his siblings.

Wakko seemed to fair slightly better than he did, but not by much. He was younger, which was an automatic bonus. And between his shy smile and goofy tongue hanging out he was downright adorable. Though whenever Yakko saw a prospective parent getting a little too cozy with his brother, he sometimes – okay, always – prompted Wakko to burp or show them his mallet. This usually led to a destroyed office, which usually led to the so-called parents fleeing in terror. Flamiel told Wakko he was a destructive child. Yakko told him he wasn't destructive, just energetic. Besides, if a parent couldn't handle that, then they simply didn't deserve Wakko, Yakko reasoned.

With Dot it was much harder to dissuade any would-be parents. She was barely more than baby. She was smart. She was feisty. And darn it if she wasn't as cute as a button. Adopters were always swarming around her like flies to honey. With her, Yakko found himself stooping to the lowest of diversionary tactics. One time, he took the sandwich Wakko had been hiding under the bed for three weeks and told her to offer it to the couple. Another time, he told her to ask every visitor if they provided free flea baths. He'd been known to simply walk into the room mid meet and greet, scoop her up, and carry her back out again, but that was before Flamiel started separating him from Dot's sessions.

It wasn't really sabotage, he reasoned. Why should his siblings have to be paraded out like zoo animals to impress people into wanting them when he, Yakko, already did? They didn't have to prove anything to him. He liked them just the way they were. And it seemed that they were the only two people in the world who felt that way about him. If they were gone, nobody would like him.

By this point the other children had dispersed. It was dry and dusty and hot at the top of the ridge. Visitors squinted in the sun as they milled about in front of the Observatory. A few humans pointed or nodded toward the herd of toon children, but for the most part they were ignored. Except for one man, who was hovering near the bronze bust of what Yakko presumed was some smart but dead guy. The man's clothes were clearly expensive but hung in a would-be casual way, as though he had paid to look more middle class than he was. Despite the chic sunglasses he wore Yakko could tell the man was looking at them. Though his fur prickled on the back of his neck Yakko glared back at him, trying to be just as rude as the man was. But he felt a tug on his pants and he ended the staring contest to look down.

"What's that?" Wakko asked, pointing to a haze on the horizon.

"That's a homegrown layer of LA's finest smog," Yakko said.

Dot waved at it. "Hello smog!"

Catching a glimpse of Flamiel, who was now pushing Holly on a pair of human toons, Yakko whipped out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, just like the ones she wore, and slapped them on his face. Turning to his siblings and jutting out his hips, he screeched in his best Flamiel impression, "_Don't wave to the smog Dot, it's against the rules! At least I assume so, sometimes I forget rules three hundred and twenty through five thousand and one!_"

Wakko and Dot exploded into giggles.

"_I've been making rules since I was a little girl, you know!" Yakko continued, "And that's really saying something! Good Gertie the Dinosaur, I almost forgot I'm older than Gertie the Dinosaur!_"

Flamiel appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to their left. He jumped, but quickly regained his composure.

"You should patent that trick," Yakko said, raising an eyebrow.

"Will you _stop_ dillydallying?"

"We weren't dillydallying, we were dawdling. There's a difference," Yakko corrected.

Flamiel seized him and Wakko roughly by the arms and marched them toward the Observatory. The way she was squeezing his arm made Yakko think she'd heard what he'd just said. Dot trotted behind them and made faces at Flamiel's back. Delighted by this, Wakko made his own rather bizarre face at her.

"What on earth are you doing?" Flamiel snapped, eying Wakko like a science experiment gone awry.

Wakko's face scrunched up in thought and his tongue peeked out. "A gookie," he answered finally.

"A goo – what?" Flamiel blurted. She shook her head. "Whatever. That didn't need an answer, it was a rhetorical question."

"Rhetorical? Ooh, triple word score," Yakko said.

"I would be positively shocked if you even knew what 'rhetoical' meant."

"Well, the way you used it, it's a figure of speech that's used to make a point, not get an answer. So since you asked Wakko a direct question, I guess that makes you the one who doesn't know what it means."

He felt her grip tighten painfully on his arm as her mouth pressed itself into an impossibly thin and straight line. He'd once heard the expression "if looks could kill" and now he finally understood what it meant. Wakko and Dot's eyes were darting rapidly between Yakko and Flamiel as though they were watching an invisible tennis match. After a moment Flamiel snapped, "You're completely wrong. Now just shut your mouth and try not to give me a reason to lock you in the bus for the rest of the afternoon."

Yakko crossed his arms. "Boy, you'd make a great teacher one day."

Her eyes went meaningfully from him to the bus, and he decided not to push his luck any further. When they reached the Observatory Flamiel all but dropped them in the lobby. Hunching over so her sharp, ugly nose was an inch from Yakko and Wakko's, she growled, "If either of you two misbehaves – especially you – " she jabbed a finger into Yakko's chest "you will be writing lines from now until you turn eighteen."

Wakko counted on his fingers for a moment. "That's twelve years!" he answered proudly.

"I'd only have to do it for nine years," Yakko said.

"No fair!"

Flamiel made a threatening noise in the back of her throat and they clammed up immediately. Wakko even edged himself slightly behind Yakko.

"It's a looong time either way," she said. After giving them one final glare, she turned to Dot with a sickly sweet face. "Now, come along Dottie, let's talk to all the nice people..."

But when she grabbed Dot's hand, Dot slid out of her grip and joined her brothers.

"No, I'm going with Yakko," she said with a surprising amount of authority for a four-year-old. "And don't call me Dottie."

Yakko treated Flamiel to the smuggest grin he could muster. In return she gave him a scowl that made her look more vulture-like than usual before storming away from them in a huff.

"I think she likes us," Wakko said, watching her leave.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "Maybe. She definitely doesn't love us."

"Ooh, what's that?" Dot cried. She skidded to a halt in front of a large circular wall in the middle of the room. "I – can't – see!" she grunted between jumps as she tried to look over the wall. Joining her, Yakko crouched down and motioned to Wakko, who crawled on top of him to sit on his shoulders. Dot followed by scrambling up both of them, using Yakko's muzzle as a foothold in the process, until she was sitting on Wakko's shoulders. Grunting with effort, Yakko pushed himself to his feet, raising both his giggling siblings in the air. They wobbled for a moment until Yakko found his balance.

"Look at us, we're the Leaning Tower of Sibs," Yakko said, clutching Wakko's ankles.

"Good one Yak," Dot said dryly from her perch. If Flamiel was here, Dot would be eye level with her.

Struggling to stay balanced, Yakko staggered to the edge of the wall. Dot and Wakko could see over it perfectly now, and he was just tall enough to peer over the edge. It was surrounding a circular pit that was edged with ornate numbers. In the pit, a large and heavy-looking golden ball was swinging back and forth, suspended from a wire that went all the way up to the distant ceiling. It made elegant arcs with each slow, purposeful swing.

"It's pretty," Dot said.

"It's boring," Wakko countered.

"It's a Foucault Pendulum," Yakko said, reading the sign beneath it.

"Gesundheit," he heard Dot mutter above him. Rolling his eyes, he continued to read, "The brass ball, suspended by a cable 40 feet long, swings in a constant direction while the Earth turns beneath it. The pendulum is mounted to the rotunda ceiling and does not turn with the building as it rotates with the Earth. As the day passes, the pendulum knocks over pegs set up in the pendulum pit and indicates the progress of rotation."

"What does that mean?"

"It's just a fancy way of showing the Earth rotates."

Wakko jumped, causing the three of them to sway ominously. "The Earth rotates?" he cried, scandalized. He eyed the ground as though he expected it was going to slither out from beneath their feet.

"Yeah. It's not really front page news. That's why we have daytime and nighttime. And stop looking Wak, it's too slow, you're not gonna see it."

"Well if we have daytime and nighttime, then why do we need this ball thing to tell us we're rotating?" Dot asked.

"Sometimes people don't believe stuff even though it's true. They need more proof right under their nose. And Foucault probably had way too much time on his hands."

Dot's eyes swiveled back and forth with the pendulum. "Yup. Way too much time."

They watched it in silence for a few minutes. The steadiness of it was oddly relaxing. Yakko adjusted his aching shoulders, trying to move Wakko to a more comfortable position, when he felt someone kick the back of his knees. They instantly buckled, sending the three of them stumbling forward. Wakko and Dot cried out above him as Yakko struggled for balance; Dot lurched forward, seconds from tumbling into the pit. Yakko kicked back with all his might, sending all of them sprawling backwards. His tail made contact with the floor before two smacks told him his siblings had done the same. He craned around to check on them. Both of them seemed okay – Wakko looked slightly dazed, and Dot, murderous – but unharmed. Wheeling back around, he scanned the lobby for the culprit. It wasn't too difficult spot three identical duck boys sniggering behind a pillar. Jerks. What did they have to go and do that for?

"I think we found our new special friends," Yakko muttered.

"Lemme at 'em!" Dot roared, getting to her feet and pushing back her sleeves. "I'll pluck 'em, tar 'em, and feather 'em again! I'll – "

Yakko caught hold of her tail as she marched past. "I appreciate the blood lust, sib, but I think we'll need a plan of attack first."

"What's there to plan? First we pluck them, then we find some tar, then we tar them – "

"First of all, we don't go to the La Brea Tar Pits until the next field trip. Second of all," Yakko glanced at the pendulum and grinned, "I have a better idea."

Making sure the ducks were watching, he spun on the spot, concentrating on his clothes while also trying not to fall over. With his eyes shut tight he felt a light fabric flutter across his chest, and a slight weight on his head. Crossing his fingers, Yakko opened his eyes and stole a glance downward. An apron now hung from his shoulders, and he could feel a chef's hat atop his head. He'd done it! He'd done a change! Though he felt a slight draft around his left ankle and realized he'd accidentally lost half his pant leg in the process. Oh well, it was still better than last time when he'd ended up with his pants wrapped around his head like a scarf (much to Wakko and Dot's enjoyment). Besides, the apron covered his legs anyway. The ducks would never have to know.

"You guys hungry?" he asked his siblings.

"Starving," Wakko moaned.

"What's for lunch?" Dot asked.

"I'm thinking I'll make my specialty…"

Yakko pulled a tub of chicken stock from his hammerspace and was unable to suppress a self-satisfied smirk. Whether it was more from its respectable size or from the astonished looks on the ducks' faces was hard to tell. Wakko and Dot's faces split into twin grins when he motioned them over, not even questioning the anarchy they were about to cause. They gleefully helped him tip the chicken stock into the beautiful pendulum pit, the juices splashing up against the sides. Yakko snuck a glance around the lobby. The few people who were there hadn't noticed what they were doing yet. And Flamiel was nowhere to be seen.

"How'd you do that?" came a boy's voice.

Yakko struggled to repress his growing smirk. Throwing on an air of casual innocence, he turned around to face the triplet ducks. They were barely a few feet away, huddled close together as though Yakko or his siblings could attack at any moment. They had identical, accusatory looks on their faces.

"Oh, this? Just a little thing called gravity," Yakko said, nodding his head toward the chicken stock, "it pulls things down, you see."

The boy in the red shirt narrowed his eyes. "I haven't seen you at tooniversity."

"Truancy is a rising epidemic."

"They don't go to school, Huey," said the green-shirted boy. "They came on that bus all the orphan kids ride. They're nothing special."

"Still Louie, it doesn't explain how they can do...that," the blue-shirted one added, watching Yakko tug a carrot from his hammerspace.

Yakko took a bite and said nasally, "Eh, what's up, doc?"

"Only kids who go to tooniversity can do toon tricks, that's what's up! You're not allowed!" Huey snapped as though Yakko had done something entirely against nature.

"I didn't know there was a law," Yakko drawled. He deftly sliced the carrot with a knife and tossed the pieces over his shoulder so they landed in the chicken stock with soft plunks.

"Well no, there ain't a law – " the blue one began, but Huey elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, "Quiet Dewey!"'

By now Wakko and Dot, who were perched on the edge of the pit, were following his lead and pulling a variety of vegetables out of their hammerspaces and throwing them into the pit. Hunks of celery, whole heads of cabbage – none of them were finely chopped like his, but the triplets' beaks still dropped open. By this point Wakko had abandoned vegetables and was now throwing a variety of things into the pit, including a banana, a herring, and a tire iron. Glancing around once more, Yakko was relieved, but also a little surprised, to see no Flamiel. Usually when she said she was going to keep an eye on him, he couldn't so much as sneeze without her breathing down his neck. Not that he missed her, but still, it was odd...

"Who taught ya?" Huey asked with an aggressive step forward.

Yakko shrugged. "No one, Nobody, and Not a One."

Dewey snorted. "Yeah right. Who'd ya steal tricks from then?"

Yakko felt a prickle of outrage, but he stifled it and remained cool. "Hey now, I'm sensing some hostility here. Wakko, Dot, what do you think?"

"Yeah, they do seem a little spiced up," Dot said, darting forward and sprinkling pepper on them. The ducks cried out and cringed. Louie sneezed.

"You'd think we'd just a-_salted_ them," Yakko added, throwing some salt.

Wakko nodded. "Maybe we should butter them up?"

As he said it, Wakko bound two sticks of butter to the bottoms of his feet with scotch tape. He leapt from the edge of the pit and began sliding around the lobby floor as though he were on ice skates. He skated circles around the ducks, who were still trying to wipe the salt and pepper from their eyes, making sure to glide over their feet as he did so.

"Couldn't agree with you more, sib!" Yakko said, and he and Dot stuck butter to their feet as well. They joined Wakko, skating lazy, taunting circles around the three ducks.

Pushing the last of the pepper out of his eyes, Huey snarled, "That's it, you wanna see powers? I'll show ya powers!" His hand plunged behind his back, and Yakko saw the handle of a feeble-looking mallet emerge. Yakko snorted. His was way bigger and stronger. But still, even Huey's crappy little mallet would hurt if it smacked him in the face. Yakko's own hand went behind his back and retrieved an onion. "Now now boys, no need to get upset!" he said. He pulled out his knife again and sliced the onion very rapidly in front of the ducks' noses. Within seconds their eyes welled up with tears. "Knock it off!" Dewey said through a sob.

With a gleeful laugh, Yakko and his siblings skated away. "Bet you can't catch us!" Dot called.

The three ducks growled. Half blinded by tears and with feet covered in butter, they stumbled awkwardly after them. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot skated around the legs of startled tourists, past a mural of the planetary system, around a model of the moon. The ducks slipped and skidded behind them, crashing into people and walls. Leading his siblings, Yakko circled back to the center of the lobby where the pit stood as the last bits of butter melted from his feet. He motioned Wakko and Dot away and, making sure the ducks were still chasing him, made a running jump on top of the pit. For it to work, he knew he couldn't look down, but for a simple instruction it was very difficult to do. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to look, concentrating everything on the belief that the air was a solid thing, praying that he wouldn't splash into a pit full of chicken stock –

His feet landed on something hard. He held very still for a moment before cracking an eye open. The pendulum wire was swinging inches away from him, exactly where the pit was, but hadn't fallen in. He was standing above the pit on nothing but thin air.

"Get back here you freak!"

The triplets were charging toward him. Determined to keep them distracted, Yakko crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at them. Huey's face was so red it matched his shirt. They jumped up, landing in front of him with triumphant smiles.

"Where ya gonna go now, splot?" Dewey sneered.

"I don't know about me, but I know where you're going," Yakko said.

Louie rolled his eyes. "And where's that?"

Holding their gaze, Yakko pointed wordlessly at their feet. Their faces contorted with confusion. In perfect unison, they looked down. There was a moment where Yakko could have sworn they'd realized that they'd broken that cardinal toon rule: don't look down. But it only lasted a fraction of a second before they plunged into the stock-filled pit with three identical splashes.

Feeling his own concentration breaking Yakko jumped from the pit and onto solid ground, where Wakko was doubled over with laughter. He turned to look at the pit and burst with giggles himself: Huey, Dewey and Louie were up to their necks in chicken stock. They flailed and tried to climb out, but simply skidded down the steep walls. Carrots and celery and other items bobbed around them as the great pendulum churned them around like a giant ladle. Between the vegetables and the butter and the spices, Yakko had to admit it even smelled kind of good.

"Hope you like my recipe for duck stew!" Yakko called.

"Bone appetite!" Wakko added between giggles.

"It's _bon appétit_, sib, but close enough."

"Oh."

They had attracted a bit of attention now, but still, ominously, none of it was from Flamiel. A short distance away, Yakko spotted the weirdo with the sunglasses again. He was watching them with undisguised interest now. All he needed was for that guy to report him to Flamiel and she'd probably lock him in a closet for the rest of the summer. But then it suddenly occurred to Yakko that he may be one of those undercover guards that expensive places, like observatories, sometimes had. And he'd just had a front row seat to every inch of property damage Yakko and his siblings had committed.

Feeling the fur prickle on the back of his neck, Yakko turned to Wakko (who was sticking his finger in the stew and tasting it) and said, "C'mon brother sib, it's time to make a hasty retreat. You too, sister sib – sister sib?"

Their sister was nowhere to be found. Hadn't she just been with them a second ago? "Sic 'em, boy," he said to Wakko. Wakko immediately dove to all fours and began sniffing the ground like a bloodhound. After a few moments he sprang into a rigid pointer position, facing out onto the observatory lawn. Yakko followed the direction of Wakko's nose until he spotted her, and felt a moment of relief before his heart nearly jumped straight out of his chest: Dot was with Flamiel. Talking to a toon couple. No wonder he'd gotten away with so much. The witch had snuck his sister away from him while he was distracted.

"Dot!" he cried out. Yakko lunged into a sprint but stumbled awkwardly due to something heavy on his tail. He looked down to see that Wakko had tied his own to it on a whim.

Normally he was entertained by his brother's inexplicable impulses, but now was not the time. "Wakko, get off my tail, this is serious!" When Wakko merely shot him a mischievous grin, he growled and trudged forward as fast as he could, dragging his brother behind him through the dirt like a sleigh.

It took an agonizing amount of time to reach Dot and Flamiel. With each step he could see more and more of the couple; it was a pair of raccoons, and for a moment he had a vision of Dot squashed between them at a kitchen table, blowing out candles on a birthday cake or whatever it was you did with parents. He shook his head roughly to clear it and pushed harder ahead. Now he was close enough to hear Flamiel say, "Dottie, why don't you sing them that adorable little song you learned yesterday?"

Annoyance flickered across Dot's face, but before she could say it Yakko shouted for her, "Don't call her Dottie!"

Dot and the three adults whipped around. His sister gave him a wide smile, but the others did not look so welcoming. In fact, Flamiel looked like she'd just witnessed him commit a gruesome murder.

"And – and who is this?" the woman raccoon said lightly as her eyes traveled from Yakko to Wakko. Yakko knew they must look ridiculous – him, covered in butter and wearing half a pant leg while his brother was attached to him by the ears, laying on the ground and caked in dirt. He didn't care.

"She's not for sale!" he said fiercely. He pulled Dot to his chest, daring the raccoons to take her away. Beside him, Wakko had untied his ears and was getting to his feet.

The sight of the three of them together seemed to snap Flamiel out of her horrified stupor. Color crept back into her white face. She turned to the couple with a painfully forced smile and said, "My sincerest apologies – this boy is a, um, a special case. But I assure you that Dottie here is a perfect little angel and tells me every day that she'd want nothing but a family – "

"No I don't!" Dot huffed, but Yakko cut across her and snarled, "She's already got a family! We're her brothers!"

The two raccoons exchanged startled looks. "I thought you said she was an only child?" the woman said to Flamiel.

Flamiel, who was now sporting the manic look of someone who was about to do something desperate, let out a hysterical little laugh and said in a high-pitched voice, "No no no, please ignore him, he's disturbed in the head, they're not related at all – "

Yakko snorted. "Who are you kidding? In case you haven't noticed, we kind of look alike." This was debatable with Wakko, who was covered in so much dirt that he was brown. Yakko ignored this. "Or wait, I'm sorry, maybe you didn't notice, you're so old I'm surprised you don't need to use the observatory telescope to see your own nose – "

Without looking at him, Flamiel clapped a hand over his mouth. "Good Gertie, would you listen to him, such a little comedian!" she trilled to the couple before rounding on Yakko. Her face, which was glowing red, swapped its disgusting smile for a threatening snarl. Wordlessly she wedged her hand between Yakko and Dot and attempted to wrench them apart.

"Really, isn't she just a dear?" Flamiel pressed, ignoring the fact that Dot was trying to bite her wrist.

Yakko tried to tug back without hurting his sister. This did not seem to concern Flamiel, whose vice grip was twisting roughly between them. "Let go!" he grunted. Her grip tightened. Looking her straight in the eye, Yakko shouted, "HELP! KIDNAPPER! STRANGER DANGER!" Several tourists stopped to stare at them.

"W-what? No, I'm their director, I – " Flamiel sputtered. Her grip slackened and Wakko seized the opportunity to sloppily lick her entire hand.

"_Yee-ech!_" Flamiel shrieked, releasing Dot immediately. She yanked her hand away and shook it, sending droplets of spit onto the raccoon couple. They yelped in revulsion and backed away. "You know, we really should get going, lots of sight-seeing to do today..." the man mumbled.

"No please!" Flamiel cried, wisps of hair springing loose from her bun. "They're harmless, these boys, they're just bad eggs, but the girl – "

"I'll give you harmless," Yakko snapped, "Wak, let's show them our mallets – "

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Flamiel roared.

By this point everyone on the observatory grounds, including the man with the sunglasses, was watching them in awe. The raccoon couple slunk away without saying goodbye, ducking heads down and clearly hoping no one would notice them. Flamiel watched them go, spluttering a few feeble calls for their return, before she turned on Yakko. Her face had bypassed red and purple and was now a shade that was so new Yakko didn't think there was a name for it yet. Her nostrils were flared, and her eyes were so wide that she looked completely deranged. Yakko took a small amount of pride in knowing he was the cause of it all.

"You..._you_..." was all she could get out.

"Me...me..." Yakko mimicked back. Part of him knew he shouldn't be pushing her buttons right now, that he should be afraid of whatever was coming next, but he just didn't care.

And then her anger seemed to explode out of her. "_What is wrong with you?_" she bellowed.

"Me? You're the one trying to send a four-year-old away to complete strangers!"

"You. Are. Orphans! It's my job to send her away! And those people could have been her family if you hadn't scared them off – "

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU!" Yakko was yelling now. He couldn't remember ever having shouted like this in his life. He pushed himself to his full height, though that barely brought him past her waist. "She's got a family! We're her family! Why are you always trying to take her and Wakko away? You never try to split up any of the other kids as much as you do us, why can't you get your gigantic nose out of our business and leave us alone!"

To his wild embarrassment, he felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Wakko and Dot were both gaping at him; he'd never lost his cool like this in front of them before.

"I don't split up the other ones because they actually stand a chance of getting adopted! I couldn't pay someone to take _you_ home! You're not special, you're just a nasty little thing who's getting in the way of his brother and sister getting out of my hair and finding real home with people who love them!"

"Hey!" Dot shouted indignantly. "Yakko's plenty special! Anybody would want him!"

Wakko nodded furiously. "Yeah, he's the best, he can pull an anvil out his hammerspace the size of my head!"

Flamiel sneered condescendingly at them. "Oh yes, Yakko, the king of anvils...I'm sure his parlor tricks will really take you places."

"It's still one more anvil than you can do," Yakko said through grit teeth.

Her eyes widened impossibly further. Yakko held her stare and did not blink; he could tell she was holding back a million different names she wanted to call him. "You have five minutes to get your tails in the bus. You will sit there for the remainder of the trip. Yakko, you'll be writing lines the instant we get back to the orphanage, and don't even think about asking how many."

Turning on her heel and leaving him standing with his siblings, Flamiel marched towards the other children, who were gawking at them from the Observatory steps. Yakko watched her enormous hips jerk left and right with disgust. But his anger dissipated quickly, leaving guilt and sadness in its place. All the adrenaline had drained out of him, making him feel shaky and limp. He dropped down so he was sitting in the dirt. With a sigh he rested his head top of Wakko's and pulled both of his siblings closer.

"Stupid old bat," Dot growled.

Wakko stopped making facing at Flamiel's retreating back and said, "I'll help you write lines again Yakko. And I'll try to spell everything right this time."

But when Yakko didn't answer they squirmed around to face him. Judging by the concern on their faces, they weren't used to him having nothing to say. But he couldn't bring himself to talk just yet. He glanced at them, shrugged, and then turned his attention to the ground.

Dot poked his shoulder. "You weren't really listening to her, were you? I wouldn't want to live with those weirdos. And I know you're special."

"No I'm not," Yakko muttered.

"Yeah you are, you're my favorite brother!" Wakko countered.

Yakko quirked an eyebrow at him and sighed. "I'm your only brother."

"Uh huh, so that makes you really, really special."

Yakko blinked at him. It was hard to tell if the ounce of logic in that was intentional or a just a happy accident.

"Thanks for taking one for the team back there," he told Wakko, "I'm sorry you had to get a taste of that gargoyle."

"S'ok. She tasted like cat hair."

Dot giggled and even Yakko could not prevent a dry laugh. But as Dot relaxed back into his lap and Wakko doodled in the dirt with his finger, Yakko was suddenly overcome with a panicky kind of despair. Flamiel was right. What was he doing? How could he have not noticed how selfish he was being? Unlike him, people actually liked Wakko and Dot and wanted to take them in. And here he was, being a petulant little brat and standing between them and real families. His siblings thought they were happy with him now, but it was only because they didn't know any better. Maybe they would be happier – better – without him. They'd live in a real house and have a real bedroom of their own, not one that they shared with 30 other kids. They'd get their own toys that weren't already played with and broken, and maybe they'd even get to go to tooniversity. All things they wouldn't get if they stayed at the orphanage with him. He was dead weight, an anchor keeping them stuck at the orphanage because he couldn't get his act together and control himself, because he couldn't keep his mouth shut, because he was just so inherently unlikable.

But could he do it? Could he force himself to let them go? Or would his own selfishness get in the way again, would it stop him from giving up the two greatest comforts in his life, they only two people in the world who laughed at his jokes, who hugged him goodnight, who thought he was special...

"You okay Yakko?"

Dot was staring up at him with wide as eyes, as was Wakko, whose eyes were the only things visible beneath the dirt.

"Look...sibs..."

He heard footsteps crunching toward him. Feeling his temper boiling back up to the surface, Yakko snapped, "If you think you're going to lock me in the bus Flamiel, I'll tell ya where you can put the key – "

But as he turned around, he found that it wasn't Flamiel approaching them. It was the man in the sunglasses.

"I can't wait to hear you finish that sentence," the man said.

Yakko stared at him, his mind racing. "Who're you?" Dot said, asking his question for him.

"My name is Andre, and I couldn't help but notice – "

"What, my sibs? Get in line," Yakko spat.

Wakko stood himself between his brother and sister and the man. "If you want to adopt us, you have to adopt all of us," he said, crossing his arms. It would have been much more intimidating if he'd at least been taller than the man's knees. Still, Yakko took heart in the move of solidarity.

The man pushed back his sunglasses, eying Wakko with amusement. "That wasn't my plan, little guy, but I do want to talk to all three of you. You're uh, pretty special if I do say so myself."

"We're not special," Yakko corrected automatically.

The man blinked. "You three, not special? What in the world would make you say that?"

Yakko opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He suddenly had no idea how to answer him.

"See, told ya so," Dot whispered to him with a grin. "Some people need proof right under their nose."

"I'm a casting agent for Warner Brothers, and believe me I've seen it all. If I say you're special, you're special. We're in preproduction for a new children's series and we're looking for our leads. You kids have any acting experience?"

"Unless you count acting like we don't think Flamiel's evil, then no," Yakko said.

"That's the lady who's chaperoning you kids, right?" Andre asked. At Yakko's nod he continued, "Look, why don't we have a chat with her? If my instincts are on the money, she might be just as perfect for our show as you three are."

Andre urged them forward but Yakko dug his heels into the ground. "Um, exsqueeze me, but I think I heard you wrong. I thought you just said something about a show."

"You heard right. We're knee deep in casting but we still don't have our hosts. Steven's looking for two to four kids with a lot of personality."

"Well then look no further," Dot crooned as she preened her hair.

But Yakko barely heard her. His brain was still stuck on "casting," "show," and "hosts." This man was leaving Loonyville and making a left turn into Crazytown. There was no way he could be talking about what Yakko thought he was talking about.

"Ever been to an audition before?" Andre asked.

"What's an audition? Can I eat it?" Wakko pressed. "Yakko?"

Yakko blinked and looked down at his siblings. They were staring up at him with wide, dark eyes.

"What do ya say, kid? Want to see if you've got that special something to be on TV?"

Andre was looking at him now too.

"We – we don't have any nice clothes," Yakko blurted. He didn't know why he was saying it. Normal kids had clothes. Surely Andre was expecting normal kids.

Andre waved him off. "We can get you those."

"We don't have any scripts."

"We can get you those too."

Wakko and Dot were bouncing up at his sides. He didn't know why they were so excited, they didn't even know what an audition was or what it could mean for them –

Good Gertie.

They had an audition.

For a TV show.

"What's your name?" Andre asked.

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Yakko. And this is Wakko, and that's Dot."

"Pleased to meet you. And do Yakko, Wakko, and Dot have a last name?"

Yakko shook his head. "No. We don't. We're like Madonna."

"No last name?" Andre said, not phased at all. He shrugged. "Don't worry about it kid. We can get you one of those. A good one."

Yakko looked at his siblings and wondered what surname could possibly be special enough for the three of them.


	2. The 'K' Word

Recently, Yakko had come to a new realization in his life:

He liked it when girls thought he was cute.

"C'mere, you big ol' cuddly wuddly head!"

He sighed. Today, he'd found the exception to that realization: Elmyra.

The girl had a future in big game hunting as far as he was concerned. No matter how out of his way he went to avoid her, she defied all comprehensible logic and found him. This time, she did it by waiting outside of the men's room in the conference hall.

"Sorry Elmyra, love to, but can't," Yakko drawled.

"There's still time for a hug!"

"No, I really don't think there is."

"Why not?"

"Because I need to, uh, go look at the sky. To see if it's still blue."

Elmyra's brow furrowed and she turned to the window. "It looks pretty blue to me…"

But then her eyes flicked back to Yakko, just as he'd been tiptoeing toward the door.

"You can't leave yet, you haven't paid the hug toll!"

"_Hug toll?_" he repeated with disgust. But then she lunged at him with unnatural speed, and the next thing he knew her arms were wrapped around him so tightly that he couldn't feel his legs. Her grip was positively bone-crushing; his lungs must be so flat by now that he could make pancakes out of them.

"The more you try to wriggle away, the harder I squeeze you!" she crooned.

Yakko gasped for breath. "Oh good," he wheezed, "a behavior you share with our friend the boa constrictor."

"I just want to love you and hug you forever and ever and ever and – "

And then it was happening. Her face was coming toward his. Icy panic flooded through him and Yakko began to sweat, squirming to no avail. Her lips puckered. His worst nightmare was manifesting itself in the form of a little, red-headed girl.

"El – myra," Yakko coughed out, "Behind you…there's a herd of…wild kittens…"

"Kittens?" she gasped, "Kittens are my favorite!"

Yakko used her moment's distraction to dart out from under her. "See ya!" he cried, ignoring her protests as his legs churned beneath him, picking up speed with each step. He didn't stop running until he was on the other side of the lot. Panting, he collapsed against the wall of a dumpster and slid down until he was sitting.

He ran a hand through his hair. That had been close. _Too _close. He'd almost been…kissed.

And by Elmyra no less. Could no two greater wrongs have been committed? He could still smell her sugary breath on his face. The thought of it made him shudder.

It wasn't like he didn't get curious. He'd thought about that…stuff. He'd thought about it a lot actually. But it was still a relatively new development in his day-to-day. He'd noticed definite changes in his behavior as of late. Being on set when Minerva was shooting a scene was difficult sometimes, mostly because a fog seemed to descend on his brain and he'd start tripping over camera equipment. And he couldn't seem to pry his eyes away from Tress, the delightfully leggy blonde who played Hello Nurse, anytime she walked out of a room. And then of course there were the girls – Babs, Shirley, and Fifi – who were overcome with giggling fits if he was within a 100-foot radius. He used to find it incredibly annoying, but now it was making his stomach squirm in a way that wasn't exactly unpleasant. Which was horrifying in its own way. Fifi had shot him a wink the other day that had nearly made him drop his lunch tray. He really had to work on being more smooth.

Once he was more 'smooth' and less 'paralyzed with fear' around girls, then maybe he could start thinking about kissing one of them. But it was too soon. Way too soon. After all, he didn't even know what to do. And he was so full of questions…what it would feel like? What would he feel like afterwards, would it make him different? What if it was sloppy and gross and her breath was bad? What if it was like sticking his mouth to a fish? Or worse…what if he was bad at it?

No way…he was Yakko Warner…he couldn't be bad at anything like that –

Oh who was he kidding? All that stuff in the show was just an act. Like he knew anything about girls aside from the random idiosyncrasies that Dot displayed. His character on the show was written as a simple Groucho Marx rip-off; _Animaniacs!_ Yakko Warner was a skirt-chaser, a womanizer, a hound dog. Real life Yakko Warner was awkward and clueless and perplexed by the mysterious habits of girls.

And also secretly dying with curiosity about them.

When he'd brought this up once at a shoot, that his character was nothing like him, the director had laughed it off and labeled it a "self-fulfilling prophecy" and to "give it a few years." Yakko had rolled his eyes. What did that guy know aside from pointing out when he was saying his lines too fast?

Besides all that, Elmyra was only eleven. A whole year younger than him. He was way too mature and sophisticated for her. Twelve sounded so much older than eleven.

"You have that familiar, haunted look of someone who's just run into Elmyra."

Yakko jolted, smacking his head against the dumpster with a gonging _BWAM!_ Rubbing the back of his head, he glanced up to see Buster Bunny smirking down at him.

"How observant, Sherlock," Yakko muttered.

Buster plopped down next to him. "What did she try this time?"

"Well, there was a lot of 'cuddly wuddlies,' a lot of oppressive hugging, and," he hesitated, "and, she tried to kiss me." Seeing that Buster was staring at him rather blankly, Yakko hurriedly added, "It wasn't like I enjoyed it or anything. It was gross. It was like trying to fend off an octopus in heat."

He hated that he sounded so desperate for approval. Hated it. But he and Buster had only gone from enemies to friends in the last few weeks and he'd hate it even more if his one and only friend ditched him because he was too weird and into girls –

"I mean, it wasn't…_that _gross, was it?" Buster said finally.

Now it was Yakko's turn to stare. "Well okay, it's not like it's the _grossest _thing that's ever happened to me. You forget that I spend the majority of my time with Wakko. The other day he took three cans of cheese whiz and…"

He trailed off at Buster's expression. Buster looked as though he was teetering on the edge of a high dive, wondering if he should jump or not.

"So don't tell anyone but, um, I did it…with Babs," Buster said.

"Goodnight everybody," Yakko muttered.

Buster smacked his arm. "Not like that ya perv. You know…" he looked around, making sure they were alone. Then, watching Yakko from the corner of his eye, he hissed, "I kissed her."

"What?" Yakko yelped, jerking back and knocking his head against the dumpster again.

Buster frowned. "Watch it Yak, you're gonna give yourself a concussion."

Eyes watering, Yakko quickly composed himself. There was no need to be such a spaz about it…right? It was just kissing after all. Loads of people did it. Loads of people that now included his only friend.

He should be happy for Buster, shouldn't he?

For a moment, Yakko desperately wanted to be with his siblings. They never made him feel bad about not having the kahonies to kiss anyone, let alone discussed anything to do with kissing whatsoever. The last time he'd seen either of them kiss anything was Wakko kissing the TV remote after losing it for a week (something about finding it in the crisper of the refrigerator).

"Er, I mean, wow Buster, way to go, that's really…something."

Buster's anxious face loosened into one of relieved smugness. "Yeah man, I did it. I was smooth as glass. All that romantic crap. She was psyched."

"What was it like?" Yakko asked before he could stop himself.

"Well Yak, the birds were singing and the sky was blue, and I don't think I knew what love was until - "

Buster laughed and ducked out of the way as Yakko chucked a tomato at him. "Not to interrupt you Lord Byron, but seriously," Yakko pressed.

Buster leaned against the dumpster and scratched his ear. "Eh, I dunno. Squishy. Kinda wet. It was nice, I guess. I don't see what the big deal is. But c'mon, what do you need to know for? You of all toons must already have a list of girls you've played tonsil hockey with."

"I, well, I mean…I haven't exactly…er - "

The sight of Yakko stuttering made Buster pause. Frowning, Buster said, "I mean, you _have_ kissed a girl, right?"

Yakko opened his mouth, but was cut off by a loud, irritating voice.

"Well if it isn't Bluebell and his sidekick, Little Orphan Annie."

Yakko rolled his eyes. Montana Max. Probably the last guy he wanted in on this awkward conversation. "Looks like the Misery Train is right on schedule. Next stops: Anger, Bitterness, and Cucamonga!" Yakko announced like a conductor. Buster snickered.

After gesturing rudely at him, Max slapped a hand on the dumpster and leaned over them so that his shadow fell across Yakko's face. "Laugh it up Warner, because if I didn't know any better, I could've _sworn _I heard you two talking about locking lips."

"I don't know Max, the 'you don't know any better' argument seems pretty sound to me," Yakko said as he and Buster got to their feet.

Max bristled at him for a moment before recovering. "So, what happened? All the girls reject you and you had to turn to Bunny Boy Blue over here to satisfy you?"

"You wish," Yakko said.

Buster nodded and crossed his arms. "Nice try, but we were just discussing our techniques. So I guess that means you can't be a part of this conversation, Short Stack."

"Please," Max scoffed, "I've got girls lining up around the block waiting for me just to look their way."

"Oh yeah? Who?" Buster pressed.

"I don't kiss and tell."

Yakko shook his head. "Correction: you don't kiss so you can't tell."

Buster burst out laughing as Max's cheeks turned pink. "As if you don't go home and make out with your pillow every night, Warner!"

"Hey, don't talk about my pillow that way!" Yakko shouted with mock rage. Buster was doubled over from laughter.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Max snarled, "Fine then, who? Give me names! Which girl is missing enough brain cells to want hang around you? I know you barely leave the lot, ya little homeless wannabe, so it had to be someone I know, 'cause I know everyone here! Who'd you kiss?"

Yakko glared at him, the homeless comment still ringing in his ears. The honest answer to Max's question was Scratchensniff. He'd kissed Scratchensniff on set for one of their episodes. Actually more than one episode.

Good Gertie. He'd had more action with Scratchensniff than he'd ever had with any girl. He glanced at his watch. Yup, it was time to crawl into a hole and die.

Max must have seen something in his face because he said, with growing glee, "You haven't kissed any girl yet, have you, Warner? Mr. Ladies Man and all that?"

He sensed Buster's eyes on him and felt himself growing warm. He must have assumed the awful truth. It was only recently that he and Buster had switched from enemies to friends. There wasn't a whole lot of loyalty between them yet. Would he blow Yakko's secret for a laugh? A few weeks ago he would have - while Buster hadn't exactly sided with Max, he never stopped Max from insulting Yakko's clothes, his upbringing, his mallet…

Yakko's eyes flicked nervously to meet Buster's, pleading, hoping he didn't look too pathetic. He had no idea what protocol was. He'd never had a friend who wasn't a sibling before.

"Oh cram it Max, of couse he has," Buster said coolly.

Yakko could have melted with relief. Instead, he added, "Yeah, you didn't get the memo? I thought I sent it out to the whole studio..."

"Who, then?"

"You don't know her."

"Pssh. At least try to come up with a decent excuse."

"You wouldn't know her, she was at - " he was going to say "the orphanage," but thought better of it. No need to give Max more fodder.

" - the _Animaniacs!_ premiere," Buster supplied, casting a sideways glance at him.

Yakko nodded. "Yeah. The premiere. She was tall. And blonde. Tall and blonde. Couldn't keep her hands off me."

"Uh huh," Max said, crossing his arms. "What was her name?"

"Gertie," Yakko said. Buster raised an eyebrow, but he just shrugged. It was the first female name that came to mind.

Max snorted. "Gertie? When did you meet her, 1920?"

"No, I met her behind during cocktail hour backstage. It was dark, and she was grabby - "

"Ugh, enough, don't make me puke," Max growled.

"Whatsa matter Max? Still think girls have cooties?"

"No!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

Max's eyes widened. "Lay off!"

Yakko felt like a shark sensing blood in the water. He may not know anything about girls, but he knew how to talk his way through a bluff. There, he was an expert.

"Max," Yakko said lowly, leaning in to Max's personal space. "Do we need to have…_the talk_?"

Spluttering, Max backed away. "Ew, not with you I don't – "

Turning to Buster, Yakko said with a smirk, "The boy doth protest too much, methinks."

"Agreed," Buster said, returning a grin. "Why so shy, Moneybags? A minute ago you couldn't get enough of this conversation."

"No – I don't – I'm not – I just don't want to ruin my reputation by having this conversation with you two freaks!"

Yakko quirked an eyebrow. "Really? Coulda fooled me."

"I'll pay you to shut up, Warner!"

"Sorry, but I'm under contract."

With a noise of utmost frustration, Max threw his hands in the air and stalked away. "Have fun feeling up your pillow, moron! I'm outta here! Next time you see me, I'll have a girl on each arm!"

"Ok, but just remember Max, they have to be real! Drawing them on your arms with marker doesn't count!" Yakko shouted to his retreating back.

They heard his distant swears but it barely mattered – they were laughing too hard. Catching his breath, Buster patted Yakko on the back. "Nice work, man. That little snot had it coming to him. All that orphanage crap he always brings up because he can't pay someone to think of something clever for him to say…"

Yakko could barely hear him. He was too busy reveling in the fact that Buster was firmly on his side. That he was defending him. As a friend. He suddenly felt warm and happy and could feel dozens of words just bubbly up, trying to come out. He knew right, exactly then, that he would never let Max get away with another "orphanage" crack again. Because Buster would have his back.

"…and besides, who cares if you haven't kissed a girl yet? It's none of his business. Besides, maybe it's best to wait a while anyway, I think it made Babs funny in the head – "

A cloud descended over Yakko's little bubble of happiness, and finally a few words battled their way to the top. "Buster…thanks for that."

" – she keeps talking about poetry and – wait, thanks for what?"

Yakko looked everywhere except Buster's face. "Thanks for not blowing my cover. About how I haven't…ya know…"

When he finally managed to look at Buster, he was sporting a lopsided grin. "Don't mention it, Yak. We're buds now, I would never spill my guts to that little troll. Besides, it'll happen sooner than you think. You'll find some girl you can trick into thinking you're not a total weirdo – "

Buster laughed and dodged another one of Yakko's tomatoes. Seeing Buster pull a pie, Yakko grinned and reached behind his back again –

WHAM!

What Yakko could only assume was a rogue freight train slammed into him, knocking him flat on his back. Buster cried out in alarm, but it was drowned out by a deafening squeal:

"Nowhere to run now, my widdle muffle-wuffle-puddle-pants!"

Elmyra was on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground with her knees - not that it mattered, he was in too much shock to even blink, let alone push her away - and before he knew what was happening she plastered her lips to his. Yakko's brain was barely registering flickers of comprehension - _gooey, sugary, wet_ - before Elmyra pulled away with a revolting, "Mmmwwaahhh!"

"Elmyra! What the hell!"

Yakko gasped for air as her weight left him; Buster was dragging her away by the arm, looking completely horrified. "Are you crazy? - wait, don't answer that..."

The only acknowledgement she gave was a giddy, mischievous giggle, her eyes still on Yakko.

"Get lost, ya creep!" Buster snapped, making a move toward Elmyra. She yelped and scampered off, her mad laughter dying away in the distance.

He came back to find Yakko still lying flat on his back, staring into the sky. "Dude, are you alright?" Buster cried, his voice cracking with panic. He fumbled with Yakko's limp wrist, checking for a pulse. "I'm sorry man, when I said it would happen sooner than you thought, I wasn't thinking in the next five seconds…Yakko, say something! You're too quiet, it's scaring me! Did she break you or something?"

As though he was coming out of a deep sleep, Yakko slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. He touched his mouth gingerly. Buster watched him with a a wary expression and waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Yakko…what did she _do_ to you?"

He blinked and turned to his friend. Much to Buster's alarm, a goofy grin spread across his face.

"She kissed me."

At that moment, Yakko came to an entirely new realization:

He might just be a lot more like his _Animaniacs!_ character than he'd thought.


	3. Group Session

Scratchensniff picked up his notepad and pen and surveyed the three toon children who'd just sat down in front him. Wakko and Dot swung their feet and glanced about the room while Yakko, the only one tall enough to have his feet reach the floor, stared back at him. This wasn't their first psychiatric session and it certainly wouldn't be their last. When he'd first been given their files two years ago, they had been nothing short of a DSM laundry list. Separation anxiety, self esteem issues, problems with authority, poor socialization… they were a far cry from his typical patients, to say the least. Since then their progress had been substantial, but not nearly what Scratchensniff considered his standard. Sometimes he didn't know who to blame – them or him. Sometimes he didn't even know why he did it. He brought his notepad close to his chest as though he were in the middle of a round of Texas Hold'em.

"Okay children, today we are going to try a group session."

"Whoa Scratchy, I didn't know you were into that kinda thing," Yakko said, waggling his eyebrows.

Scratchensniff glowered at him for a beat before scribbling into his notepad, _Might have entered puberty._

"Let us try to keep this civilized, Yakko. What I mean by this is that the four of us will have a conversation today, yah? About each other."

"Oh, like a gossip sesh?" Dot asked, perking up. She leaned towards him. "I've got all the dirt on these two," she said, jerking her thumb at her brothers, "I'll fill you in if you tell me about Nurse's date on Saturday."

"Tress went on a date? Who did she – no, we are already straying from the subject!" Scratchensniff said, catching himself.

"You say that like it's a bad thing. C'mon doc, spill. How many bases?" Yakko pressed.

Scratchensniff turned to his notepad. _Has clearly entered puberty._

"Focus, Yakko. I want you – all of you – to concentrate on today's topic. Yourselves."

Immediately, Yakko whispered something to the other two, who snickered. None of them bothered to hide it. But Scratchensniff didn't care. Again, this was not his first session with the Warner children.

"It is important in your development that you create a support system among the three of you," he pressed on, "particularly given your family situation, a strong, open connection with one another should be a priority in your lives. The simplest way to do that is through honest communication, though, as you know, not everything is as simple as it seems. Tell me, what is a typical conversation with one of your siblings like?"

Dot's hand shot into the air. "Me! Me!"

"Yes, go ahead, Dot," Scratchensniff offered.

Wakko shook his head. "She just told you. That's what it's like talking to Dot. 'Me, me, me...'"

"At least I can communicate in something other than burps and farts," Dot shot back.

Scratchensniff turned to his notepad. _Sibling rivalry present._

"See what I have to deal with?" Yakko asked. His eyes dropped to the notepad. "Whatcha writing?"

Scratchensniff did not look up from his writing. "Notes for today's session."

"What kind of notes?"

"Notes based on my observation."

"What are your observations?"

"We are getting off the subject."

"Are those your notes or are you just stating a fact?"

"Yakko."

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Let's return to the subject at hand, shall we?"

Wakko looked at his hands curiously.

Scratchensniff slipped his hands under his glasses to rub his eyes. "No, not your actual hands, Wakko. And Yakko, I meant today's subject – yourselves, and your relationships with one another. I noticed some tension just now and I think we should open the door to your more positive natures. Simple gestures can work wonders. For example, say something nice to each other."

"Something nice to each other," they said in unison.

Scratchensniff dragged a hand down his face. "You know what I mean," he said through grit teeth.

"Fine." Dot turned to her oldest brother with a glowing smile. "Yakko, your breath doesn't smell nearly as much like chow mein as it did yesterday." Wakko snickered.

"Dot, in the dim lighting of Scratchy's office, I can barely see your mustache," Yakko returned warmly. Dot swatted him playfully and the three dissolved into giggles.

"Stop it now! Those are backwards compliments!" Scratchensniff said.

Wakko squirmed around so that he was facing the opposite direction. "Dot, your hair is shiny. Yakko, you're tall. Ta da! Backwards compliments!" he exclaimed. They laughed harder.

Scratchensniff, wondering if it was possible to grind one's teeth into dust, wrote down, _Discomfort with genuine emotion. _ Taking a deep breath, he said as evenly as possible, "That is...slight...progress Wakko, but perhaps try to find things you like about your brother and sister besides their physical appearance. And for heaven's sake, face forward like the rest of us."

There was a delay of roughly ten minutes as Wakko pretended not to know which way was forward. This was exacerbated by Yakko and Dot giving him false advice as to which way was forward. At long last (and after Scratchensniff threatened to separate them), their giggles subsided and every Warner was facing the correct direction.

"Now, Wakko, give your brother and sister a compliment. A sincere one this time."

Wakko turned to Dot and stroked his chin, considering her. He turned to Yakko and did the same. Back to Dot. Then Yakko. Dot. Yakko. Scratchensniff. Yakko. Dot.

"Wakko! We are on the clock!" Scratchensniff roared.

"Who cares?" Yakko said, shrugging. "It's Plotz's dime, not ours. We could sit and stare at the wall for the next hour and it wouldn't make any difference to us."

Scratchensniff was momentarily distracted by a glorious reverie involving all three Warner children sitting silently by the wall while he popped some Advil. But he shook it out of his head. "But Yakko, would you really want to waste an opportunity to better your mental health with something so juvenile?"

"Probably," Wakko said.

Dot smirked. "Try us."

"He's already trying our patience," Yakko added.

All three of them were staring at him now with the predatory confidence of cats eying down a cornered mouse. But Scratchensniff was not to be intimidated so easily. He stared back from behind his thick glasses, hurriedly sizing them up. If he was going to make any sort of progress – why did he even want to progress with these three? – he was going to have to crack one of them. The other two would follow.

"Take a picture doc, it'll last longer," Yakko said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Make sure you get my good side!" Dot crooned. She angled her head and smiled so a dimple showed.

Scratchesniff's eyes fell to her. Yakko would become sarcastic and hostile. Wakko wouldn't take anything seriously. But perhaps Dot... if he chose his words carefully enough... she might be the easiest to crack.

"Dot, I notice that you appear to have a streak of vanity – "

"Wow Scratchy, you should thank your eye doctor, those glasses are really working for you," Yakko said, earning him an elbow in his side from Dot.

Scratchensniff pressed forward. "This is often a sign of a lack of self worth. Do you feel – "

"She's got self worth. I'd say she's worth... um... five dollars," Wakko said. Dot tugged his hat over his face and threw her hands up in the air. "You see, Scratchy?" she sighed, "See what a girl's got to deal with?"

Scratchensniff gripped his pen. _Gender conflict._ "Speaking of which, how do you feel the presence of your brothers affects your sense of female self? Your body image?"

Dot looked her brothers up and down. "Well, I'd say I'm certainly prettier than both of them, that's for sure." Yakko feigned an offended expression.

"That's not what I – er – I mean, how do you feel about a lack of feminine influence in your life? With no female mentor to look up to?"

Dot stroked her chin. "I've found that if you sneak up on Wakko when he's in the bathroom, he screams like a girl. Does that count?"

Wakko made a gookie at her. Yakko laughed.

"Dot, you are missing my point. You are primarily around male peers and it appears you have a self obsession with your appearance – "

"Oh please, I'm not just obsessed with my looks," she said, "I know I'm the smartest, funniest, hippest, and most glamorous girl this side of the Ventura Freeway. The fact that I happen to look good doing it is just a bonus."

_Yet ego is healthy_, Scratchensniff scribbled. "And what of you, Wakko and Yakko? Do you respect Dot's femininity?"

"We have to, she'd mallet us if we didn't," Wakko said solemnly.

"Please be serious Wakko."

"I am!"

"He is," Dot agreed.

Scratchensniff sighed. "I ask because you are all approaching that age where your bodies will undergo certain changes and it is important that you understand each others' respective – "

Wakko and Dot's eyes had gone wide with horror, and Yakko leaned on his knees and said, "Scratchy, is this really going to turn into a conversation about the birds and the bees? Because if my sibs are about to be scarred for life, I'd at least like to warn them first."

"Why is it called 'birds and bees?'" Wakko asked.

Yakko smirked. "Well you see Wak, when a bird and a bee love each other very much, they make horrible, mutant bird-bee hybrids."

"Cool!" Wakko said with a grin.

Dot turned to Scratchensniff very suddenly. "Where do babies come from?"

Scratchensniff spluttered, nearly dropping his notepad. "Well, er, ah, I don't exactly... I mean, I'm not sure if I should be the one to... I do not exactly know how your species reproduces... or even what your species is – "

Yakko, who'd been watching this with equal degrees of amusement and concern, asked, "Scratchy, you _did_ go to medical school, right?"

"Of course I did!"

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I am not embarrassed!"

"It's just nature, Scratchy. You see, we're approaching that age where our bodies undergo certain changes and it is important that you – "

"This is not amusing, Yakko!"

"It's okay Scratchy, I was just messing with ya," Dot cut in, "I know where babies come from."

Scratchensniff blinked. "You – you do?"

"Yes, from their parents, silly."

Pause. "Oh. Well. Right." He returned to his notepad. _Someone (not myself) must have _the talk _with all of them. Sooner rather than later._

"Unless they're drawn. But let's not open that can of worms."

At that, Wakko pulled an actual can of worms from his hammerspace, and the next ten minutes were spent with lots of yelling, chasing, and arguing. Once Scratchensniff had gotten all three of them to settle down again (and all of the worms off the top of his head), he eyed Wakko with a stern look. Wakko had the good grace to grin sheepishly. _Some semblance of a conscience. Maybe. Kind of._

For a moment he considered making Wakko stand in the corner, but came to the conclusion that it would be more trouble than it was worth. It was easier to keep track of the three of them when they were all together, and besides, who knows what Wakko would do to the corner of his office.

"Wakko..." he began slowly, "I wonder, what with all of these hijinks and mayhem... do you feel as though you get enough attention?"

Wakko blinked at him. "Right now?" He gazed around, noting that his brother, sister, and Scratchensniff were all watching him. "Yeah, definitely."

"No no no, I mean in general."

"Oh. Well how much attention am I supposed to get?"

"Enough to make you feel special, wanted, and loved."

"Hmm..."

Wakko stroked his chin and stared at the ceiling. And stared. And _stared_. He stared at the ceiling for so long that Yakko and Dot had begun to play a game of Blackjack with a deck of cards Yakko had procured from his hammerspace.

Feeling the ends of his patience fraying, Scratchensniff finally snapped, "I think you've had enough time for self reflection, Wakko! Do you have an answer to my question or not?"

Wakko jolted and looked at him. "Sorry! What was the question?"

"What was the – " Scratchensniff sputtered. Feeling the vein in his forehead swelling, he could only assume this was what an aneurism felt like. "I asked if you felt you receive enough attention! What on earth have you been thinking about this whole time?"

"I was just looking at that water stain on the ceiling," Wakko said, pointing, "It looks just like Val Kilmer."

Dot looked up too. "I dunno, I think it looks more like Keanu Reeves."

"More like if Val Kilmer and Keanu Reeves had an ugly baby," Yakko said, squinting.

"That is enough!" Scratchensniff roared. "I am trying to help you! Why are you three so determined to distract yourselves from your own self improvement?"

"Who said we need to self improve? Isn't the point of these things to say that we're just oh-so-perfect the way we are?" Yakko asked.

"It would, if I knew you were being honest with yourselves, but you are not! You are suppressing your emotions! You are not stepping back and taking an honest look at yourselves and your relationships with one another! And no, Wakko, that is not meant to be taken literally, so sit down!"

Wakko, who had been halfway out of his seat, sighed and sat back down.

Scratchensniff dragged a hand over his face. "Why do I even bother? I try and I try to get through to you kids, and nothing! I do not have to do this, you know. Social Services was simply going to assign you a state psychiatrist, but no, in my idiocy I decided to donate my time and my effort into helping this lost cause! Why do I punish myself? Why, WHY?!"

By this point he was panting heavily and grasping at phantom fistfuls of hair on his head. His mouth was stretched into violent grimace. Somewhere distantly in his brain he recognized that he must look demented.

"Because, Scratchy," Yakko said, brushing a speck off of one of his white gloves, "You like us."

Did he? Did he like these three children who had tottered nervously onto the lot behind a studio talent agent? Who so many had written off as too far gone, too neglected, to even help, let alone offer a 24-episode contract? He did. He must. Or else he wouldn't be sitting in this room again, eyes ready to pop out of his skull from frustration, yet still determined to do right by them.

Slowly, Scratchensniff lowered his fists and his face relaxed. To do right by them. An epiphany was seizing him as he stared at Yakko. So transfixed was he that he barely heard Dot mutter, "Yakko, his eye is twitching."

Yakko. He'd dismissed him earlier, but perhaps that had been hasty. There was an Achilles Heel there, staring him in the face.

"Scratchy, you're making me blush. Can't take your eyes off me, can you?"

Yakko's mockingly coy voice shook him from his thoughts. Scratchensniff cleared his throat and smoothed back his nonexistent hair.

"Why yes, perhaps that is it. Perhaps I do care. What else would explain why I drag myself to the guillotine again and again? Yet at least I can admit it. At least I do care, Yakko. Can you say the same?"

This got their attention. Yakko's eyes narrowed, Dot's head snapped up, and Wakko, who'd been moments away from an impressively large spit bubble, coughed and stared at him, mouth agape. For a moment Scratchensniff fretted that he'd gone too far. Manipulation of a patient was not only unethical, but could potentially aggravate damage that had already been done. He was attempting to alleviate their mistrust of authority – Yakko's in particular. Scratchensniff opened his mouth to shout out an apology when Yakko spoke up.

"What are you saying I don't care about?"

Scratchensniff struggled to retain a neutral expression. "You are seizing upon every opportunity to undermine your siblings' progress. In addition, you seek to sabotage your own progress, which, as an older sibling, indirectly affects theirs. I am saying that on some level, you must not care about them or their health."

A low blow. But for a good cause. Hopefully.

Yakko brow bent into an annoyed expression, the first emotion besides casual indifference or amusement that he'd displayed all session. At that moment Scratchensniff realized that he'd finally managed to attract all three Warners' undivided attention at the same time. It was unnerving.

"I have to say doc, between this and your overall lack of medical knowledge earlier, I'm starting to doubt your skills. Where'd you get your degree? A happy meal?" Yakko asked.

"If you must know, I got it from a correspondence – " No! He had to focus! "I mean, that is neither here nor there. If you doubt my credibility, then you must care about yours and your siblings' well being on some level. Am I correct?"

Wakko and Dot turned to their brother. _Validation seeking? _Yakko turned back to them. _Desire for approval? _He turned back to Scratchensniff and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well obviously I _care _about them, jeez. What do you think this is, a Frank Miller comic? Besides, look at them, can you say no to those faces?"

Wakko and Dot turned to him with puppy dog expressions. He had been unaware that anyone's eyes could grow so alarmingly large and endearing at the same time.

"So then why not help them, Yakko? Or more importantly, why not help yourself? What is stopping you from looking deep down and reflecting on the person you are and are becoming?"

They eyed each other, and it was undeniable to Scratchensniff that the predatory gleam was gone from Yakko's eyes. This could be it. The breakthrough. The moment. The validation of his work. And his paycheck.

"I... I... I..." Yakko began, voice suddenly drenched with emotion, brow twisted. "I…"

Yes, yes….

But then a triumphant grin slowly swept across Yakko's face as the predator returned. "... I think we're all out of time."

He was pointing at the clock. Scratchensniff looked at it. He was right. Their hour was up.

Dot leapt to her feet. "Better luck next time. Bye Scratchy!" she said as though nothing had happened.

"See you next week!" Wakko said, following her and snickering.

Yakko opened the door for them, allowing his brother and sister to exit first. Then he turned to Scratchensniff with a knowing smile. "Try not to miss us too much!"

The door slammed shut. The spell was broken. Scratchensniff took some heart in the fact that Yakko seemed to be missing some of his usual swagger on his way out, but it did little to repel the same shell-shocked blankness that accompanied the end of all their sessions. Scratchensniff looked back to his page of hectic notes.

_Glass of wine tonight required. _


End file.
